


The Conquering Main

by coplins



Series: Packrunners [37]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pack Building, Pack Dynamics, Pack Politics, Scents & Smells, Sort of? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 20:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16583918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coplins/pseuds/coplins
Summary: The Pack merger is moving forward well enough except for one little hiccup. Dean decides to take Sasha's advice and fix it, so he goes to pay Marlon a visit.





	The Conquering Main

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaand rewind. This takes place just before the last installment.
> 
> For those of you who know Marlon from his own 'canon'verse', you'll notice a few differences in personality and language. I had a good long think about how their lives had differentiated and what that might have done to him as a person. Like for instance, this Marlon has been to war which has affected him greatly. That poetic language from his canon went partly down the drain because of it. Plus, both John and Marlon are good fathers in this verse, making their offspring their main purpose in life. In Marlon's canon though he loved his children greatly, he put his job first.
> 
> Anyway, I know it's been a while since I posted but life and the DCBB came in the way. I'm an artist for two fics. If you've got Tumblr, feel free to [check out the art](http://coplins.tumblr.com/post/179936939695/the-sword-and-the-flame-art-masterpost-okay) for the first one and give it a like to boost my ego. *cough, cough*
> 
> Oh, I also forgot to mention that I gave Packrunners its own blog to keep track of posts that relate to it. You're welcome to submit stuff to it. [coplins-packrunners.tumblr.com](https://coplins-packrunners.tumblr.com/)

Dean knocks on the door. Mike had been nice enough to convince the downstairs security to not call up ahead. It wasn’t hard to do when Dean’s already mated to Raff. He’d intended to put off any mating bonds until he and Marlon had cleared things up but sometimes that just doesn’t happen. Besides, Sam seems to only need to be in the general vicinity of the Williams brood for a mating bond to pop into existence. The bitchface on his little brother when Dean suggested that was epic. Joining the two packs is a given. Dating or just hanging out in mixed groups had shown that the chemistry ran deeper than just scent attraction between all of them. Dean thinks it should be strange to be in love with several people at the same time after Cas who’d been his one and only, but it really isn’t. They’re all so different and Dean is the most in love with whoever is present at the moment. Sadly, with how much they all work it’s uncommon that they manage to hang out everyone together at the same time. 

He and Marlon have met a few times but it’s always been in settings that shackle Dean and put Marlon in control. Like last week when Marlon showed up at work. Dean had been playing at being the best Conservative Omega ever for the benefit of the dudes whose company they wanted to buy and slaughter. He’d had his necklace with the star of the One god hanging on prominent display on top of his tie, body language submissive and demure, soft-spoken looking up through his lashes. Yeah, he can act. It’s pretty fun, actually. More fun the deeper his understanding of Conservatives and Progs become. Bottom line is that Marlon had shown up and Dean had to keep in character during their whole interaction. Dean’s not sure if Marlon smelled so content because he was submissive or because of his acting skills.

Marlon opens the door with a fed up expression and starts saying something but cuts off in surprise when he sees Dean. Dean shoulders his way past before Marlon has a chance to say anything. He drags his fingers―already coated with secretion from his ear glands―along the wall as he makes his way in, smelling a burst of spiky anger behind him. He throws a look over his shoulder with a grin and a cheeky wink. “Heya, Papa.”

“By all means, do come in. Make yourself at home,” Marlon answers with a flat, sarcastic voice.

“Oh, I _am_ ,” Dean answers and rubs his temple against the wall beside him, smelling how Marlon’s anger intensifies. He’s nervous and afraid of what Marlon will do, but this level of fear always translate into a sharpness of aggression in his scent so to Marlon he won’t appear afraid. It's a lucky thing for him. Depending on the level of fear he's feeling people will smell anxious - aggressive - terrified in that order unless they have freaky noses like Sam. Maybe Marlon does? Dean doesn't know because the fucker is so secretive.

He makes his way towards Marlon’s bedroom following his nose and what he remembers of descriptions of their home he’s gotten, marking up walls as he goes. “Gotta say, Papa, this is a nice fucking crib,” he says. A look over his shoulder shows Marlon trailing after him with a small, bright ring of a flare just around his pupils as he’s trying to hold back the physical manifestation of his anger. Dean pulls off his shirts and kicks his shoes off while he walks, dropping his clothes wherever they come off.

“Mh. You’re being incredibly rude, Dean. I suppose I should have expected a lack of manners from a rural Packrunner,” Marlon says, too fucking controlled but with a slightly condescending tone. Poking at a small spot of insecurity inside of Dean. The fear of not being good enough to care for his pack and being judged by those with more experience. But - it’s a small spot.

“Hah! You think I don’t have manners? That would imply I don’t know what I’m doing right now. Think again, Papa.” Dean reached for the closed door handle of Marlon’s bedroom when Marlon’s suddenly up close putting a hand on the door to keep it closed.

“I’d appreciate if you’d be so kind not to call me Papa. I’ve got a name and I deserve to be shown some respect, _boy_.” Marlon’s voice is restrained with an edge of anger to it. Seriously? Marlon might have the best self-control of anyone Dean’s met. Not a touch nor a curse or threat to come over his lips yet. If the roles were reversed he would be holding Marlon by the throat by now. He looks over his shoulder to see that Marlon's flare is still just a thin line around the pupil. “Or is this about your relationship to your father? Are you seeking to make me a replacement for the paternal figure whose knot you used to take, while you close your eyes and think of him? Does it do it for you when I call you ‘son’, hmm? Does it remind you of him? Don’t you think I have eyes, Dean? I saw how you quieted down when your oblivious brother declared that you didn’t need anyone to vent too because your pack was so small. John Winchester is still your Patriarch, the man whose knot you yearn for, and go to for guidance. That’s why you’re hiding it from your brother, isn’t it? An Omega doesn’t stick with his birth pack for years after the repulsion has faded without developing some ‘special’ feelings for his Alpha relatives.”

So close, missing only by an inch on a few details. Still, Marlon’s stabbing at a weak point making Dean’s belly churn. This, above anything else, is Dean’s vulnerable spot. His biggest shame and insecurity and Marlon went right for it. Dean turns around and leans against the door with a lopsided smirk. Marlon's lips are quirked upward and his eyelids are lowered in a phoney, kind expression belied by the coldness of his eyes. “Nah. If I’d taken dad’s knot I’d still be back there, happily mated and possibly nursing my second kitling by him. I sure as hell wouldn’t be mated to one of your sons,” Dean answers with an upbeat voice. He reaches behind him without breaking eye contact and opens the door, stumbling backwards into the room then turns around to nosedive into the big bed there. He rubs himself against the sheets and pillows then abruptly sits up facing the door where Marlon’s nonchalantly leaning against the doorpost with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s flaring in full now and Dean takes a moment to actually look at the man. Always wearing so fucking classy clothes. Today it’s dark-grey pinstriped pants and vest over a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. It’s accessorized with a wristwatch, two chain bracelets, the pocket watch with its chain, and a tie pin. His hair isn’t as immaculate as Dean’s used to seeing it, though, and he’s barefoot. “Of-fucking-course, I call my dad for advice. Wouldn’t you? Dude’s been around a lot longer than I, he grew up in a fairly big pack and has experienced a shitload of stuff I can only dream about. I’d be a fucking moron not to.”

Marlon purses his lips briefly but says nothing.

Dean looks around the room. There’s the big bed with nightstands on either side, a walk-in closet, a door to a private bathroom, a currently empty suit valet stand, and photos on the wall. Some of Marlon’s sons but the two biggest pictures are of Aiden and Chuck, hanging side by side. Aiden’s pic is clearly shot in a photo studio with him dressed up quite like Marlon, fingering a cufflink while smirking challenging at the camera. Chuck’s photo is candid. He’s sitting by a desk with an old-school typewriter in front of him, leaned back in his chair with a glass of whiskey in his hand while he appears to be laughing at something the photographer said.

Dean bounces off the bed to stand in front of the pictures and Marlon _growls_. It’s the low, icy type of growl that promises hard violence for the slightest misstep. Paying attention to the photos of lost loves accomplishes what a full-on claiming of the home couldn’t. Duly noted. Dean stands within touching distance of the two photos looking at them, then turns his head towards Marlon to see he’s shifted to stand with his legs firmly planted in the middle of the doorway, lips curled up to show off his fangs, and his hands at his side fingers curled loosely inward towards the palms with the back of his hands facing Dean. Dean does that too when he makes himself ready to fight and doesn’t want his opponent to know he has claws. “I want you to do me a favour,” Dean tells him.

Marlon stops growling with a slightly disbelieving expression. It quickly changes to a sarcastic one. “Of course, you do. Why wouldn't you?" he mutters to the room in general, then directed to Dean he says, “Please, _do_ tell."

Dean looks back at the framed poster-sized photos. "I wrote them one letter each, introducing myself, telling them about my pack. About my fears and hopes. My doubts. I think my letter to Aiden got a bit longer since I wrote about Dick in greater detail, but can you blame me? That’s one tragic fucking love story that deserved a happy ending.” He can smell Marlon’s anger diminishing slightly as he talks. He wishes he had Sam’s super-nose so he could catch possible underlying feelings. “I went to the Pyre to burn the letters. I couldn’t get to the original place you burned them since it’s on your estate on Long Island, but it felt like it deserved a bit more effort than just burning them at home in our kitchen, you know? In a show of goodwill. I mean, they’re most likely still running with y’all in spirit, right?” He reaches out to lightly touch the wall between the pictures with a soft caress meant for the two dead pack members. This time Marlon doesn’t growl a threat and when Dean looks back Marlon’s relaxed against the doorpost again, hands in his pockets. “My mate, Castiel, he’s still running with me. I can feel it. Anytime I write him I can feel his presence. When I’m alone and worried or afraid he comes to comfort me. And I would like for you to write to him, introduce yourself. I don’t care if you write one page or twenty pages like I did, just…”

“That’s a reasonable request and I will honour it,” Marlon answers.

“Thanks. Appreciated.” So. Time to kick the wasps' nest again. “Then at least someone will get a proper introduction of you. Cuz you sure have gone out of your way to make sure I don't get to know you. That's not what I need from my Patriarch. You know if you don't measure up you can be replaced.”

"That's not for you to decide. And my sons won't challenge me,” Marlon says smelling annoyed.

Dean gasps and puts a hand to his heart. “Oh no. Gee, gosh golly! And they’re the only Alphas in the world! What to do? What to _doo_?” he says and falls back onto the bed again. But it isn’t anger he’s smelling from Marlon now, it’s anxiety, completely belying the unimpressed facial expression he’s given. That’s… that’s not what Dean wants. He sits up. “Look, Marlon. The way you’ve been acting, keeping yourself in the background… I ain’t having that, okay? That’s not what I need from you. I need to get to know you. I want my Patriarch to be the person I don’t need to keep a mask up for. Otherwise, I’m gonna end up seeking what I need outside of the pack and I don’t want that to be my first or only choice. This is my pack now. You and I both know it even if the rest of the pack doesn’t seem to realise. And I get it, man, I really do. You weren’t prepared for this so you’re trying to force things, me, into following the original plan.”

“And pray tell, what was the original plan?” Marlon asks, relaxing a notch.

“Your sons would meet a single wandering Omega, probably young and not prepared to be a Main just yet because who the fuck is? Mains don’t get wanderlust willy nilly and from what I gather usually don’t take their spot as leaders until their forties. You’d get to ease them into it, teaching them and automatically creating a dynamic where you have the power. Then I showed up. And I think you saw I’ve already been a Main and thought that was good. But I was still alone, right? I was new to the city, still learning how to navigate the different social cues here. I was looking to join a pack, to get a mate. I could be steered. I still fit into the bracket of wandering Omega, which is what you’ve been preparing for. Back up even further Dick was fucking perfect for the job. He and I have a lot in common. No scruples about what we’ll do and sacrifice for our loved ones, leadership ability, survival and combat skills to name a few. But then, my brother came here and suddenly things changed since your sons wanted both of us and Sam declared to me that whatever happens he wants to stay with me and our pack was no longer to be considered a temporary union of Omegas. That moment we were suddenly dealing with a pack merger and I have to act in the capacity of a Main first and foremost, putting myself second. You know all about that, don't you, huh?”

Marlon makes a minuscule nod. He still smells of annoyance and anxiety. Not very strongly. The rage from minutes ago is gone.

Dean lays down and wiggles back and forth to rub his neck gland against a pillow until it starts secreting. It feels good and you can probably masturbate to an orgasm like this even if it would take a lot more effort than jerking off. He's never tried. He removes his pants while he's at it and throws them on the floor. His scent changes with the new secretion. He doesn't stop rubbing until he can smell a vague tendril of arousal in Marlon's scent. He knows it's just an instinctual reaction but it'll have to do. He sits up again. “Anyway, if I'd put up with this bullshit of yours you'd have gotten your wish, being ultimately in control. I ain't buying it. You know it's easy to think that makes you a genderist asshole who believes Omegas are beneath Alphas?” The words are barely out of his mouth before Marlon scowls, scent spiking with anger again. He opens his mouth to answer but Dean forstalls him by holding up a hand. “Yeah no, I don't buy it either. Your sons all have great respect for Omegas and you raised them. They constantly measure themselves against the standard you hold them to. If you'd been a dick, so would they. No, I have another theory. I mean, theoretically, you could also be power-crazed like Malicia. But your reaction today pretty much disproves that. No, I think you’re trying so hard to keep control due to trauma. You've lived to see your pack decimated from what? Forty? Fifty? That's a lot of broken bonds to live through and process. I think your need for control stems from there. But then I have refused to play along with your script and you have trouble dealing with it. ... I think. It's possible that me barging in, claiming your home and getting aggressively naked in your bed might be exactly what you've planned.” Not that Dean sees how anyone could have foreseen that, but hey! You never know, right?

Marlon lets out a startled laugh then shakes his head. “No. In no way did I foresee that you'd get _aggressively naked_ in my bed,” he chuckles.

Dean gives him a smile. “Marlon, I need to get to know you. For me to trust you in issues where you have experience and expertise I need to trust you overall. I need to feel like I can pour my heart out when I'm fretting or I'm scared and need to keep up a facade to the rest of the pack. I can't have you hold me up to some insane standard when we're in private. I want to be able to talk to you about fucking everything. But to do that I need to know you and the only thing I really know about you is that you have the best sense of humor in the whole pack.”

"I do, don't I?" Marlon says with a smirk.

Dean holds back a snigger. “Yeah. So how ‘bout we trade? Quid pro quo? I reveal something about myself and you tell me something personal or whatever. I can go first?”

Marlon makes a go-ahead gesture. His scent no longer gives away any strong feelings.

“Um, okay…” Dean fumbles trying to figure out what to say. “I call you Papa because you're the dad to my chosen mates. I like it. It feels personal. But… subconsciously? I dunno, man. Maybe you're right? Maybe I do want you at least in part to play replacement for dad? It never crossed my mind until you said it but you have the same kind of vibes as him. I never… Oh boy.” Dean chuckles self-consciously and rubs his neck looking away. “This is kinda hard to talk about. I usually do my best to lie to myself about it, okay? He never, we never… _phew_. Look, it wasn't a problem while Cas was alive. Cas was the one for me. We were looking for a second mate for me but honestly? If I had to live the rest of my life with only him as a mate I woulda been perfectly content with that as long as we ran in a pack. Dad started getting affected by me but it didn't matter cuz Cas would growl and dad would back off, right? But then Cas died and so did I for one year. I survived because Sam, dad, and Bobby kept marking me up, cuddling me, purring. I don't remember most of it, but when I started coming out of it… everything was dad…” The last sentence is barely more than a whisper.

“It's to be expected," Marlon says surprisingly comfortingly. "Disregarding situations like Richard's, the one coming out of scentlessness tends to bond more strongly to the person responsible for bringing them back. It happened to me too with Aiden and we were already very close.”

"Yeah, but he was your Alpha brother, not your sire. I tried to hold on to the image of him as my dad. I still try. But… it's gone, you know? The longer I stuck around the harder it was to pretend I wasn't feeling the wrong kind of love for him. I started seeing him as a man and, yeah… What used to be play and fun teasing suddenly felt like flirting. I did what I could to keep up the pretence for Sammy's sake.” Dean chuckles self deprecatingly. "That's the high standard I hold myself up to by the way. To be the most awesome big brother so he can look up to me.”

Marlon huffs in amusement with a small lopsided smirk. “Speaking as a little brother, that bar is set very low. A bit of protectiveness and affection mixed in with the brotherly squabbles is all it takes to see a big brother as a hero.”

“Yeah? Well, speaking as a big brother the bar is high. Like, I want my dad to be proud of me but I _need_ Sam to be? Anyway, it got to a point where I realized that Sam was still a Juvie not really interested in the sexual conduct of presented people. Whatever he saw his pack doing he’d take for grownup norm until he presented and by then he’d be so used to it he wouldn’t give a shit. I didn’t want to resist anymore. So… I didn’t. But dad did. Barely. We’ve crossed a couple of lines we shouldn’t have crossed but never gone all the way or I wouldn’t fucking be here in your bed right now, I’d be in his. I still dream of him. Dirty dreams when I wake up horny and sweaty. I thought time and distance would make it fade, but no.”

“Why should it? If there was nothing to negate your feelings for him, I can’t see why your feelings would change any more than they have for Castiel. They were both taken from you against your will albeit in different manners.”

“You mean I might always feel this way about him? Fuck sake.” Dean falls back onto the bed with a whine. A thought strikes him. “That’s your beef with Amara, isn’t it? I didn’t think much of it. An Alpha female following her brother… except if you disregard her sex it’s an Alpha following their Omega sibling when they wandered which is as whack as my feelings for dad.”

Marlon huffs. “Disregarding that she's a self-centered toddler in an adult body that will wreck the world every time she doesn't get her will? Yes. It was a big problem for me that she left her pack to pursue her Omega brother with the intent of mating him despite his feelings for her being of a different nature.” He strolls into the room to stand at the foot of the bed with his hands in his pockets while he talks.

“She left― Wait. Did Chuck stick around too long just like I did?”

Marlon shakes his head. “Uh-uh. The repulsion never worked on her. She had decided Charles belonged to her while they were still kits and held onto that until he died.”

“Your boys said you liked each other just not agreed on some things?”

Marlon lets out a low chuckle. “If by ‘like’ you mean ‘can’t stand the sight of each other’, then yes. But Amara and I try to hide the worst aversion we feel for each other in front of the boys. They love her and they are in their right to do so. She nursed them and helped rear them. I suppose she loves them too, if nothing else because they’re related to her brother. She comes to visit sometimes and it gladdens their hearts so I allow it. I only force her to leave if she stays long enough for me to feel the compulsion to bond her in properly. She and her brother were a package deal. She left as soon as Raphael could survive without nursing and I’ll be damned if I let her be a proper part of this pack ever again.”

“Got it. Putting her on my shitlist right away,” Dean says and winks. “But if she considered Chuck to be hers, was she okay with you mating him?”

Marlon shakes his head. “No. She did all in her power to keep us apart until the last Omega in our pack had been killed.”

“Why’d―” Dean begins but stops when he comes to a realisation. “ _Oh_. Because that would make Chuck the Main. And if he’d resisted physical intimacy with her up to that point he’d have a hard time resist having bonding sex as a Main.”

Marlon smells pleased. “Quite right. The two of them were very tight just like you and Samuel or Michael and Lucifer. But in her, that love was dark and twisted in a way your loves aren’t.”

Dean looks at the sheets between his legs and pulls on a wrinkle. “Do you judge me for my feelings for my dad?” he asks. It’s such a sore spot for him. The one point he feels true shame for. It’s a spot on his character that he knows that people are right when they frown upon. If they’d crossed the final line he wouldn’t have cared. He’s an all-in kind of guy. But now? Always trying to wave it off as less than it was, _is_ , waking up sweaty and aching hard from a dream of being knotted with his dad’s tongue licking his neck gland and chuckling telling Sam he’d dreamt about Cas or one of the Williams brothers. He dreams of Cas too, of course, he does. But they’re usually dreams of sitting side by side on a bench or lying face to face with their legs entangled, trailing soft fingers over each others’ faces, _talking_. His love for Cas always had a tender core and wasn’t tainted by taboo.

Marlon sighs. “No, son. His actions ensured your survival and if I was put in the same situation I would have done the same despite knowing there would come a day I’d want to screw your brains out and never let you go.”

Dean chokes on his own saliva, letting out a startled laugh. He looks up at Marlon to see him smirking. “So… now that I’ve claimed your pack and your home, you got any plans to claim me to even things up?”

Marlon purses his lips but doesn’t move. “I’m rather enjoying this talk and the view is quite lovely.”

Dean huffs. “Buddy, if you don’t knot my mouth I’ll still be able to talk, you know?”

Marlon is still for a drawn-out moment, his scent or face giving nothing away.

Then suddenly he springs into action. Dean barely has time to react before Marlon’s straddling him, forcing him to lie down gripping his wrists and nudging his chin up with his head to bite the throat with blunted fangs. Dean's immediate fear stings in his nostrils and is just as quickly soothed by the Patriarch's breastbone purr.

Dean's not even ashamed of his lapse into fear. He'd just provoked Marlon pretty damn harshly and the guy made a quick jaw shift to be able to grip his throat in his jaws. Now, at least, he knows where Raff got that smooth jaw-shifting from. When Raff shifts his jaws to bite Dean's neck to keep him still, Dean keens in pleasure and arousal. It's as basic as it gets and Dean fucking loves when it’s basic.

But Marlon keeps his fangs blunted and applies no more pressure than needed to make it a symbolic act of conquering. Fuck, he’s really doing an old-school claiming. It calms Dean that Marlon, just like his sons, waited for permission. Dean growls but tilts his head back further, giving Marlon better access to his vulnerable throat.

Marlon's soothing purr turns pleased. He removes his mouth and does a quick shift to normal before attaching his mouth to the side of Dean's throat to suck at the secretion that comes from the ear gland. Dean purrs and jerks his arms to see how hard he's being held. Marlon's grip is a vice.

“Wriggly fellow, aren't you?" Marlon chuckles darkly. "Maybe I should just chain you to the bed and you can wriggle all you want,” he suggests.

Dean looks up at the steel frame headboard with its bars. “You got any chains lying around?” he asks curiously, picturing himself bound. It… might actually be pretty hot.

Marlon pushes himself up so he can look Dean in the face. “You’d be amenable to that?” he asks in surprise.

It could be incredibly stupid given how little they know each other and how Dean led in on this, but he really doesn’t think Marlon would hurt him since he’s mated to Raphael. "Yeah, sure. You gonna let me loose when we're done, right?”

"Naturally. I'd free you sooner if you ask me to." Marlon stretches himself towards the bedside table and opens the bottom drawer. Technically, Dean could buck him off now if he wants to, but he doesn't. Excitement curls in his gut, and curiosity has him trying to glean what Marlon has in the bottom drawer but Marlon shuts it before he can see. Marlon sits up straddling him again, holding up what looks like ordinary handcuffs except for the chain that is much longer. His eyes gleam of anticipation and any traces of the anger from before is gone.

“You and Chuck liked to play kinky games, huh?” Dean states with a lopsided smirk and offers his wrists.

“Alas, Charles got captured and interrogated by the enemies. Only for a couple of days before we could get him out but sadly the experience left him far too mentally scarred to handle restraint of any sorts aside from my hands, and even that was a close call,” Marlon answers while cuffing one of Dean’s wrists and pulling the chain behind several bars before cuffing the other. The chain is long enough for Dean to be able to move his arms a bit.

“Your boys say you rarely hook up barely even for polite knottings unless an O is suffering badly from their Heat. Who is your secret playmate?”

Marlon smirks and shakes his head. “Nobody. These have never been used for anything but their original purpose,” he says and climbs off. Before Dean can answer he’s manhandled to his belly. He gets to all fours to present, but in this position, he has to cross his arms to keep his balance; The chain no longer provides much wiggle room. Marlon lines himself up to stand on his knees behind Dean then falls forward to drape himself over Dean's back with his hands on the mattress on either side of him. “I’ll admit that I much prefer this before taking hostile prisoners,” he purrs and rubs his nose against the gland at the base of Dean’s neck. 

Dean whines when it sends tendrils of pleasure through his body. “You gonna get naked, or what?”

Marlon chuckles darkly. “No. Not yet,” he answers and licks the gland then scrapes his teeth against it to milk it. Dean keens from the pleasure of it, getting wet and hard, pressing back against Marlon to find he's not the only one. But Marlon proceeds to be an asshole for the next two hours. He explores Dean’s body with his hands and mouth, finding sensitive spots and triggers, licks and fingers him open heedless of how much Dean insists he doesn’t need prep. He brings Dean to the brink of orgasm and back countless of times and when Dean rolls over to beg him to just knot him already Marlon simply rolls him back but rolls him twice so he gets even less wiggle room as the chain is twisted around itself. In hindsight, Marlon isn’t quite as big of a douché as Dean thinks within the moment. There are plenty of times when he stops being a motherfucking tease just to ask if Dean wants to be let loose or to check if he’s alright with a soft voice. But Dean’s too fucking gone to appreciate it right then. At one point when Marlon asks if he wants to be released Dean growls in frustration “ _No!_ I want you to lock the door and fucking knot me already!” Then he proceeds to be pissed off when Marlon for some mysterious reason gets off of the bed. The whole room is simmering with the scent of their shared arousal. Does that mean that Marlon hurries up and knots him? _No._ Because he’s an asshole. Not even when he fucking finally pulls his dick out does he get to it. He plays with his cockhead in the slick leaking out of Dean’s hole. The unopened condom lies on the bed beside him still and Dean rocks himself back and forth trying to get Marlon to push in and fuck him senseless. The best he can manage is to get the cockhead to slip in, teasing his rim while listening to Marlon’s rough breathing. “Dammit, Papa! Will you ram it in already? Fucking _please_!”

“Must you insist on calling me that and make this dirty when it isn’t?”

Dean throws a fever-eyed smirk over his shoulder. “Nah. I can call you ‘dad’ instead,” he jokes then yelps when Marlon smacks his ass. “ _Please,_ ” he begs and starts rocking back again.

Most of their communication is primal. Marlon, for all his sophistication, proves to be very vocal with growls and purrs and pleased chirps. He’s also very attentive. Anytime Dean’s about to come Marlon switches what he’s doing to fucking prevent it. It’s when they’re nearing the two-hour mark something inside Dean just… breaks. Like something that’s been stretched and stretched and stretched and suddenly loses all tension. A breath like a sob but without tears escapes him. He doesn’t have any coherent thoughts beyond an empty feeling of sadness creeping under the arousal and frustration, deadening the frustration as it goes. “ _Please, dad..._ ” The plea is barely above a whisper but he’s suddenly pushed to his back and rolled to give him the full wiggle room of the chain, then Marlon quickly puts on the condom and pushes in while looking at Dean with concern in both scent and gaze. Dean would wonder about that if Marlon hadn’t started fucking into him as well as grabbed his dick to stroke him. Dean’s so over-sensitized it only takes two good strokes before he comes. Calling it an ‘orgasm’ doesn’t do the mindblowing, transcendental feeling justice when the denied release finally comes.

He doesn’t think he actually passes out but he sure has no memory of anything but the intense feeling between when the orgasm hits and lying knotted and held, unchained. Marlon is massaging his wrists with some salve purring soothingly lips pressed against the pulse point on his neck. Dean’s trying to make sense of it. The last thing he remembers is being pushed onto his back so they were face to face. Now they're lying on their sides with Marlon spooning his back, legs tangled. One of Marlon's arms under his neck and the other around him to reach where he's massaging the wrists. The duvet has been wrapped around his torso like a protective cocoon.

Dean feels strange. Hollow, empty, vulnerable. Every third or fourth breath comes out as a shaky sob even though he's not crying. Marlon smells excited and afraid, aroused and anxious. The undertones of fear and anxiety stress Dean. Or they would, if he’d been capable of getting stressed in his disconnected state. 

Marlon suddenly sucks in a breath pressing his lips together. Dean can feel Marlon’s eyelashes against his skin when he closes his eyes and stills the rubbing of Dean’s wrists. Still, he’s too out of it to figure out why until Marlon shudders and his dick moves inside of Dean, pumping. Dean’s so oversensitive that that small movement of the knot triggers another orgasm from him. He keens, pumping fucking air. When it’s over he trembles, taking another few sobbed breaths. “Okay…” he says on an exhale.

“Pardon me. I tried to keep as still as possible,” Marlon mumbles.

“Yeah, no. I’m sorry, Papa.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marlon asks with a soft voice.

“Whatever I did wrong that makes you anxious.”

Marlon smiles against the skin of Dean’s throat. “That’s not your wrongdoing, it’s mine. I pushed you too far without realising it until it was too late. You let me play out a longstanding fantasy of mine and I ignored the only request you made for my own pleasure’s sake. I kept pushing until you gave up. And it wasn’t the willing surrender of acceptance I would have wished for, it was the defeat of hopelessness. And for that, I sincerely apologise, Dean. You are an infuriating, provocative, insolent little…” he clicks his tongue in search for words.

“Shit. You mean to say ‘little shit’,” Dean fills in for him, his lip hooking in a small, lopsided smirk.

“Don’t be a fool. I’d never liken you to any kind of excrement, son,” Marlon answers with a smile in his voice making Dean huff in wrung-out amusement. “What I’m trying to say is that I did wrong. I felt very provoked by your behaviour and I’m afraid my vindictive side made me take our game too far. Even now my selfish enjoyment prevents me from being able to pull out and bring you relief as your current oversensitivity and the way it holds you hostage is very titillating to me.”

Dean’s starting to come back to himself even if his brain feels like sludge and every cell in his body feels like it’s vibrating. “So you’re apologising for giving me the most mindblowing orgasm of my life?” he says with a tired chuckle.

Marlon hums in the way Luci so often does. “I’m quite awed, to be honest. I have never seen an Omega have so many consecutive multiple orgasms in a row.”

“Multiple? Too me it felt like one long orgasm that never ended. Did I pass out?”

“Not in a physical sense. How do you feel now?”

Dean’s quiet for a bit, trying to feel how he’s feeling. “I― I don’t know. I feel like crying, but I’m not sad. I feel vulnerable and small as fuck. I feel kinda emptied. Fuck, but I’m still trembling. I dunno how to process what just happened. Like I’m on the brink between hysterics and floating in a void. I think, next time we do this we need some kind of tap out for when I feel I really can’t take the teasing anymore.”

“The next time?”

“Yeah. What? You don’t want to?”

“I certainly do. I didn’t think you would want to, though. Not after I pushed too far.” 

“I kinda liked it. I think.” 

“I asked you many times if you wanted to be let lo―”

“I didn’t,” Dean interrupts. “I liked that part. I hated it, but I liked it. Fuck, that doesn’t make sense. But the final release was fucking religious. If I didn’t believe in gods before I would now. I just… I don’t like how I feel now. Helpless like a fucking infant. Could you lock the door once your knot goes down?”

Marlon huffs and places a kiss on Dean’s cheekbone. “It’s already locked. You told me to earlier then you roared in outrage at me when I had the audacity to leave the bed to adhere.”

Dean giggles. “Suits you right,” he mumbles with a smile.

“Mmh,” Marlon agrees. “You wanted honesty from me so let’s start with why I went overboard. I have anger management issues―”

Dean interrupts Marlon by laughing. He laughs hysterically. Really. He’s hysteric. Can’t stop laughing. If he would stop he would cry instead and he doesn’t get it. It’s a response to the mental state he’s in. Marlon’s knot dies down and Dean whines when he slips out, laughter finally fading. “Sorry. Sorry, man, but that’s ridiculous. For you, does anger management issues equal, like, getting angry at all? Cuz I gotta tell you I don’t think I’ve _ever_ met anyone who controls their anger as well as you do. And get the fuck naked. I want you skin to skin.” 

Dean chirps in protest when Marlon disentangles himself to get off the bed to undress and Marlon makes a sound between a giggle and a delighted chirp, the last remnants of anxiety in his scent is traded for happiness, putting Dean at ease. “I've always had a temper," Marlon says while undressing, “but during and after the war it got out of my control. Incidentally, that's also one of the reasons I don't drink excessively. If I lose control over my anger I don't know how to stop in time and people get badly injured or killed. While that might be an acceptable force to unleash on strangers under some circumstances, it's never something remotely okay to subject loved ones to.”

"Have you?” Dean asks when Marlon finally gets back into bed stark naked and wraps himself around Dean. Dean twists around so they're face to face to hold onto him the way he and Cas used to lie. Marlon feels colder than Dean despite being ruddy from their activities and Dean’s scent has altered slightly. It means Marlon has almost triggered his Heat. If they go another round the Heat will come full force but Dean’s really not able to right now. He’s still scrambling for the pieces needed to put himself together.

Marlon presses his lips together and averts his eyes with a sigh through his nose. “I’m afraid Luci once managed to push that button. I had him by the throat holding him up against the wall before Aiden tore me off him. It was a close call.” He huffs in humourless amusement. “Luci’s taken every chance he gets to provoke me ever since. Chip of the old block, that one,” he says with a note of pride in his voice. He looks up to meet Dean’s gaze with a soft smile. “I’m not proud of my inability to rein myself in when enraged. My boys have experienced me roaring at them but I always seek solitude when I feel myself slipping. I either go to our dojo or to my office down the hall. I have both a punching bag and a scratching post in my office.”

Dean smirks. “Scratching post, huh?”

Marlon lifts a hand to show Dean a nice set of short, curved and sharp claws. Dean lifts his hand to entwine their fingers before shifting his own long claws on that hand. Marlon purrs in approval. “And they’re hard enough to allow you to climb rock walls?”

“Yup,” Dean says and shifts back to ordinary nails. “Do you blame Dick for losing your kit?” he asks, thinking of the rage he’d smelled coming off Marlon during the date.

“No, son. Not at all. That’s all on me. I should have kept him monitored. I had given the orders to his and Crowley’s bosses that if either of them applied for a transfer to the other out of nowhere, they’d notify me. I counted on Richard to either call me or call Crowley home. He did neither. In the end, it was Dick’s boss who called Crowley and since Dick himself didn’t, I wasn’t notified.”

“Kinda hard to call someone when you’re dying,” Dean states.

“Indeed…” Marlon lets his flare fade to reveal eyes as blue as a glacier in sunlight or the clear water in a tropical lagoon. There’s no trace of the cold, distant, default gaze now. “I’ve always had a problem as to where I should draw the line when it comes to controlling and monitoring the actions and lives of people I care for. I don’t want to allow them any privacy at all, which is wrong and counterproductive and I’m well aware. It’s not something you need to worry about. I show my pack the respect they deserve as well as the people that may become part of my pack, leaving it at fairly basic background checks.”

“I’ve got a feeling your idea of basic differs from mine,” Dean jokes.

Marlon chuckles getting an impish glint in his eyes. “Let’s just say I probably know more about your pack’s history than you by now and leave it at that.” He winks. “Though, I know less about your current life. I haven’t had you followed or bugged like I want to.”

Dean laughs and snuggles closer. He’d asked for honesty and now he’s getting it. Maybe it’s good that Marlon so rarely sleeps with someone since he’s apparently a post-coital talker. Speaking of… “Hey, Marlon? Refusing to knot me, was that just because you wanted to punish me for being a little shit or was it because you didn’t actually want to? Cuz your sons have told me you rarely hook up.” Just because Dean wanted him to doesn’t mean he did, and Dean doesn’t like that thought.

Marlon bites Dean’s shoulder affectionately. “You were being a little brat and deserved some discipline. But rest assured, Dean, I’ve wanted to―and there’s no fancy way of saying this―fuck your brains out since the first time I scented you in the corridors of the office, much like my sons.”

Dean grins. “You did that, that’s for sure. My brain feels like scrambled eggs. I’m starting to feel a bit more like myself again, though. Could you― Could we, the next time we play like this, could we keep the door locked? Like, always? I don’t want Sam to see me this, I dunno, this obliterated? I’ve been trying to teach him to be this kickass Omega and imbue him with the confidence it takes to put an Alpha in place even if they are stronger and more… more… yeah. If he figures out he likes playing like this that’s cool and all, but I don’t want him seeing me and thinking that is something he should agree to just because the Alpha wants it, you know? Cuz I’ve seen him copying me, growing up. I want to set a good example, not one that he might misinterpret and get him into bad situations.”

“Bad experiences talking?” Marlon asks while purring an all-is-well that is music to Dean’s ears.

Dean chuckles ruefully. “You could say that.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

Why not? He’d asked to trade honesty after all. “After Cas had passed away I went into a deep depression, right? Lost my scent and all that crap. When I came out of it that’s when my, uh, _problem_ with dad started. My Heats were the worst and even out of Heat I was constantly sexually frustrated. Our village isn’t huge or anything but it’s big enough that there are a lot of willing Alphas to choose from. Back then… I’d only been with Cas, you know? I had a lot of experience fighting, making decisions, hunting, caring for a pack, all that jazz, but not… not the whole hooking up thing. And I stepped on a few landmines.” Dean is quiet for a bit thinking back. Marlon strokes him over the hair. “Like one time. My first time with a Prog. Sure he didn’t flare or offer me food but my Heat was bad and he was charming and smelled great, right? We went to his place and fucked, but he didn’t knot me. He knotted outside of me and then he was like, ‘Phew. That was great. Now, will you please leave? I’m expecting guests in an hour.’”

“He threw you out unfulfilled?”

“Yeah… And I felt so fucking used and ashamed. So fucking small and worthless. I was sitting on the stone stairwell outside of his apartment building when this other guy came by. Like, the worst kind of knothead. Didn’t even smell very good. He gave me half of his tepid beer and told me he was gonna fuck me and I didn’t fucking care at that point. I mean, it’s not like I came out of my Cas-coma and everything was hunky dory straight away. I wasn’t in a great place before the Prog threw me out, but after? Suffering from my Heat symptoms? So he fucked me right there on the stairs calling me all kinds of degrading slurs. And hey, if that’s someone’s thing, that’s cool. Whatever floats your boat. But it isn’t mine. And right then I believed him. Every word rang true. Worthless little knotslut good for nothing but being a hole. Now, that’s utter bullshit. It wasn’t true then and it sure as hell isn’t true now, but then it felt true.”

“He smelt the lingering depression on you and took advantage of that. Knotting someone who’s depressed can help to ease the depression but that must have set you back?”

“Damn straight it did. Another time there was this one Primal guy who I spent two days with. I liked him well enough and the sex was good, but then when I was all blissed out he pulled out, ripped the condom off, pushed back in and knotted me. When I figured out what he’d done I panicked so bad I skunked. He was all like ‘But our kits would be gorgeous!’” Dean chuckles at the stinging anger in Marlon’s scent. Marlon is really good at hiding his emotions outwardly, still looking at Dean softly. “Yeah. I was pissed off too. I ain’t gonna let someone purposefully knock me up without my sayso.”

Marlon licks his lips in search for words. “I’d like to state for the record that I had no intention to push into you before I’d put on the condom, but you kept rocking onto my cock.”

Dean sniggers. “I know. Ain’t blaming ya. I knew I was doing it. Besides, if I’d get knocked up now it would be slightly inconvenient this early, but it’s gonna happen sooner or later. So if you hadn’t put on that condom it would still be within the pack and by one of the Alphas I chose, right? Not with some rando off the street I barely knew the name of. At that point, I was nowhere near ready to become a dad. But I think the worst experience wasn’t those I mentioned, but a Conservative Alpha. He wouldn’t let me fucking leave. It’s always a gamble with the Conservatives. Some of them are really cool. Maybe a bit needy to be seen as superior but still fucking feral in bed and respectful out of it. Like dad told me, some of them are raised to _prove_ they’re better than the Omegas but without demanding the O to be less than they are. And that’s fine by me, right? Be all you can be and all that. But this guy… He scared me. Courted me good and proper, took real good care of me, nice and sweet and all. Then he had to leave for work a couple of hours while I was finally asleep. Which was fine by me. I woke up and there’s food and soft clothes. At no point did it ring a warning bell. But I figured I’d run an errand and come back again. That’s when I discovered the door was locked. He had this steel door I couldn’t just break. Not that I really wanted to yet. I figured he’d locked the security lock by mistake when he went since the normal lock didn’t work. I didn’t start feeling uncomfortable until I checked the windows. Good climber, remember? But not only were they locked, but they also had steel bars on the outside. But, hey! Lots of people have taken security measures. No biggie. The errand could wait.” Dean feels the dread creeping under his skin when he thinks about it.

“Did it take him long to come back?” Marlon probes when Dean falls silent for too long.

“What? No. Not at all. He had books and I like to read so I picked one and soon after he came back. I asked him about the locked door and he waved it off and distracted me with awesome food, gifts, and really fucking good sex. We talked a lot while we were knotted. I didn’t find it alarming when he asked if I had a mate. Why should I? Hell, to my eyes the guy was mate material if he could be convinced to convert to Packrunning. He didn’t care that I was a Packrunner and he had a way with words… Anyway, the next day he had to leave again and before he left he asked if I could help me fix his air conditioner if I woke up when he was gone. Which I did and had just finished when he came back. The next day… we’d talked about cooking. He liked to cook and we’d discussed recipes. He’d been very interested in trying one of the things I told him about and asked if perhaps I could make it for him that night. He had all the ingredients and it was one of those long-cook things. I didn’t even think to try the door. But these things kept coming, my Heat passed and still I found myself in that fucking apartment. He gave me booze, or he asked me to do something, he, it never ended. He was all praise and compliments and charm and so fucking good in bed even out of Heat. And anytime I said something about leaving he’d wave it off and find an excuse for me not to. But it was more than that. He was fucking masterful at shifting the blame and make me feel like an asshole for even suggesting to leave. And he’d call me his Omega but he’d do it in such way it felt natural. Like when he was knotted in me, which was most of the time, and milking my neck gland so I couldn’t think straight. He’d say I’d need an Alpha to take care of me and doesn’t he care for me well? I’d hear it as ‘don’t I want an Alpha to take care of me’ which wasn’t what he meant. I didn’t really listen to that niggling feeling of wrong until he was in the bathroom and I decided to nip downstairs with the trash and discovered the door was locked. Like, with the top lock that requires a key from the inside too, not the normal one.”

Marlon’s hands caresses him soothingly, listening with keen interest. It’s one of those things Dean hasn’t told anyone about before. He’s ashamed. Still.

He goes on. “I confronted him. Said I really had to go. I was the Main of a pack and had to help dad raise my little brother. But he fucking twisted those words too. Told me that a Main and a Patriarch would bond and how ugly and against nature it was for me to be the Main of dad’s pack. Told me dead-on I felt compelled to be with my own father. Didn’t ask if that was the case, just stated it outright and shamed me for it but did it in such way that he seemed understanding, told me he could help me get rid of that compulsion. The thing that frightens me about this guy was the way he twisted words, right? He always made it feel like my doubts were my fault. He was never harsh or accusing. Always sweet and understanding. That was the problem, right? Like, I’ve killed. I’ve had to. I have no problem lashing out to leave a gash or a bite if someone who steps over the line. But you don’t lash out against someone who cowers and licks their lips in submission. No sane person does that. And you don’t attack someone who by all appearance is right in what they’re saying, is fucking nice and soft and non-threatening in every way. I couldn’t fucking do it. I _liked_ him. So again I find myself in bed with him. Once again I’m still there asleep when he leaves for work. There’s no phone, right? So I try to break the window so I can call out to someone on the ground to go get my dad. Unbreakable glass. And he kept the key on him. In the end, I got out when he went to the bathroom after sex. My Heat lasted 4 days and I was there almost two weeks. But it didn’t end there. We kept bumping into each other and he’d convince me to have a drink or cup of coffee with him and just talk. And he’d say things that seemed so fucking reasonable when he said it. He’d talk about how it would be bad for Sam to see his big brother stay in the pack instead of leaving as an O should, how dad would do fine without me and I was preventing him from finding a new mate and all kinds of bullshit that he made sound convincing. One time I got into a fight and he shows up out of nowhere and beats the shit out of the other guy. I coulda done it myself but it… um, it’s a turn-on for me? Seeing what an awesome fighter he was―”

“War vet?” Marlon interrupts.

“Yeah. It ended with me back at the apartment getting my brains screwed out. Again. You gotta understand, even if I felt something was wrong I still had a thing for him and somehow still classified him as mate material. Every time I got that feeling of wrong in my gut I made excuses for him since he was so fucking good at convincing me I was in the wrong. If I hadn’t had the pull of my pack bond...”

“He was a master manipulator but he couldn’t compete with the bond a Main has to his or her pack. If you’d been an ordinary O he might have succeeded.”

“Yeah. He frightens me with how good he was at twisting my brain. And I liked to please him, you know? He made it so fucking rewarding to obey. Every time I got out I swore never again and then we’d meet and he’d turn a ‘go fuck yourself’ to a ‘please, fuck me’ in the span of a couple of drinks. I’m so damned ashamed of myself for falling into his trap as many times as I did.”

“No need to be ashamed. He knew what he was doing and you didn’t. How many times did you end up back in his apartment?”

“Four.”

“How many of those were you drunk?”

“Only one. The only time he offered to pay for the cab so I could go back to my pack. But that time I was like, ‘Fuck that, we’re going to your place.’”

Marlon hums thoughtfully. “I’ve been called a master manipulator many times, but I promise you I won’t try to make you doubt your own gut feelings. I want you to be as confident and sharp as you can be. That said…” he hesitates before he continues. “Tell me, Dean, what kind of things are you willing to do with me behind closed doors?”

“Nothing that feels degrading, otherwise I’m game for everything.”

“Feelings are subjective. But I couldn’t help to note how you said he made it rewarding to obey…”

Dean suddenly grins and snaps his fingers on one hand then pokes Marlon on the chest. “Hah! I knew it! When we met at work you smelled so damned pleased with me. I couldn’t figure out if it was because of my acting skills or if you liked seeing me all subservient and submissive. But it’s the latter, isn’t it? That shit does it for you.”

Marlon shrugs with an unapologetic smirk. “It’s not seeing any Omega be subservient that does it for me, the world is full of them. It’s seeing somebody like you, a spitfire brat, a strong leader, demure and obedient, eager to please. I was gratified by your acting abilities too. Naturally. But seeing you like that, I wanted to take you with me to an office, throw a pillow on the floor in front of me under the desk and order you to keep my cock warm with your mouth without making it hard while I worked, so I could reward you with my knot later.”

The idea excites Dean. “I’m in.”

“Really?” Marlon asks in surprise and bites his lip, eyes full of anticipation and hope.

“Fuck yeah. As long as you don’t call me slurs and shit like that. Look, I’m a fucking prize and I know it. And if you know it too then we’ll be good as gold. I’ll hand over the reins and you’ll reward me for being a good boy after I’ve jumped through your hoops, right? But we’re talking about when the door’s locked. I don’t want anyone walking in on me when we do stuff. Like, some of it I won’t care about if Sam or anyone else sees. But just to be on the safe side. We fuck normally and the door can be open. That kind of games? Locked.”

Marlon chirps happily and bites Dean affectionately on the shoulder again with half-dropped fangs.

Dean chuckles. “You and Chuck played games like that often?”

"No. I loved Charles more than anything but we were somewhat mismatched in bed. He was bossy and preferred more classical lovemaking. He wanted two-sided tenderness most of all. I, on the other hand, enjoy it the most in a feral, animalistic way, and have often fantasized about what we just talked about but never had a chance to explore those kinks and deviant leanings. I'm not in any way complaining. Every session of lovemaking with my Charles was a treasured moment.”

"I feel ya. Cas died before we'd gotten to do much exploring. But we were so young that any kind of sex was new and exciting. With him, I think the best part was always the moments afterwards when we were knotted or lying like you and I am right now, just talking about anything and everything.”

“I enjoyed the silence with Charles the most. He wasn’t much of a talker in intimate moments. But being silent with him, our purrs the only sound, it was my heaven.”

Dean sniggers. “Yeah? You think I talk too much?”

Marlon smiles. A soft and tender thing that makes him look both younger and older at the same time. “Not at all. Different doesn’t mean worse. Plus, we’re meant to get to know each other. That was the deal, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Dean touches Marlon’s face tracing the lines that now are mostly smoothed out, the curve of his smiling lips, and finds himself drowning in those blue blue eyes. For a brief moment, time stands still to cocoon them in contentment. 

Marlon breaks the silence. "You said you've killed. Would you tell me about it?”

Dean’s body is still oversensitive, humming and buzzing with a sense of ghost touches as if it’s trying to process by replaying every one of Marlon’s explorations over and over, but the void-like vulnerable feeling has melted away and been replaced by a safe, relaxed spirit. Marlon has an overall softness about him that was unthinkable before but now appears like the natural state of the man under all the layers of masks. "Sure. I killed my first man was thirteen and a half. I presented at thirteen and hit an insane growth spurt. I went from kit-sized to man-sized in a year.” 

Marlon makes a yikes-grimace in sympathy. "That must have hurt something fierce."

Dean chuckles. “No shit. Which was part of why I had to kill, to begin with. We've had packs infringe on our territory several times. Most times it was peaceable. Negotiating whether to join up, divide the territory or help them find space on neighbouring land and stuff like that. Sometimes we had light skirmishes. But the first pack to make a move on us after I'd become the Main didn't bother with niceties. Okay, picture this. One kit, one old Alpha with his legs missing from the knees, one calf-limbed young Main reeking of chronic pain, one very young Patriarch slowly dying of cancer, and one Alpha in his best age smelling fit as a fiddle but to an outsider it would appear that it must be something wrong with him since he couldn't even claim the Patriarchal role from a boy dying of cancer.”

"Looks can be deceiving."

“Yeah. Well, they were 12 men strong. And dumb. Their first mistake was to attack Bobby first. Legs or not he's the best sniper and hearing his call for help was the only warning we needed. We made Sam hide and went to work. The fight… yeah, you know how fighting goes. It was the last survivor that fucked me up. We took him out into the woods… dad said I didn't have to participate, that I could stay to calm Sammy down…”

Marlon chuckles darkly and gnaws on Dean's shoulder lightly. Dean really likes the way he keeps biting affectionately, tasting the skin with his tongue with every scrape of teeth. Back in the days when Dean was in the mood while out of Heat and Cas was busy doing something else Dean would bite him on the shoulders or upper arms until Cas was annoyed and horny enough to play. That would amuse dad. 'Keeping it old-school, huh?’ he'd remarked more than once. He wasn't so amused when Dean had started doing it to him when Dean was a Siderunner and came home to visit. But we don't talk about that. ... Only, he had with Marlon today. And he'd bitten Marlon like that on the date and gotten a positive reaction. Not like Marlon is doing now. This is the sweet, postcoital version, like Mike would place soft kisses instead.

Marlon leans in to nibble on his earlobe until he shivers. “Did your father allow you to be the executioner when you insisted?” he husks into Dean's ear causing another shiver.

Dean chuckles. “Yeah... he did.” He'd ask how Marlon knew he'd insisted but he thinks the older man is just making an educated guess. Either way, Marlon smells very pleased. “The asshole had attacked _my_ pack, for fuck sake. And he'd given me this in the fight.” Dean sits up, pushes Marlon onto his back and straddles him then points to a knife-scar on his own chest. “So I killed him with his own knife. Not gonna lie, it fucked me up in the head to kill someone who was bound, looking me directly in the eye begging for his life and crying.”

"Mh. He must have been a convert then," Marlon muses distractedly and traces the scar with a finger.

“How'd ya figure?"

Marlon tips his head back and to the side as far as the pillow allows, closes his eyes, licks his lips in submission and makes a strange, haunting sound from the breastbone tract. It reminisces of the wandering Omega sound but more hopeless, mournful and spooky. Dean's never heard it before but he instinctively knows what it means. It's a sound of total surrender and it causes a lot of strange feelings inside of him.

Marlon smells it and chuckles. He opens his eyes and smirks at Dean. “Tell me, could you have killed him if he'd done that?”

"I― I don't think so."

“Neither could I. It's one of those sounds that seems to be instinctual for multi-generation Packrunners and I've only heard it made by the last survivor of a pack. When someone makes that sound you either drive them away or make them part of your pack no matter how bitter the fight has been.” Marlon points at another scar on Dean's belly. “And this?"

“Sam." Dean starts pointing to scars on his body most of which are small and insignificant. “Sam. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, dad, but that was an accident during hand to hand combat training, Sam, Sam, me being a dumbass after being told I couldn't do something that it turned out I actually couldn’t, Sammy, a bear, alley fight, ice skating for the first time, Sam, Sam, dumbass me, a stag…” He proudly recounts every little scar he can find and remember, touching them. All beautiful badges of a life lived and lessons learned no matter how big or small. Marlon's grinning like a kid, fingers brushing each one after Dean's touched them.

When Dean's recounted all he can find in this position Marlon points at his own torso and arms. “Aiden, Aiden, Aiden, a cactus, Aiden..." Just like Dean most of his scars come from his brother. It doesn't pass Dean by that he skips over a few of the big ones. A gunshot in the shoulder, a big slashing knife scar on the back of his forearm, and…

Dean spreads out his fingers over four parallel scars that definitely are claw marks over the ribs under Marlon's arm. Each scar is exactly over a rib and by the looks of it, they might have scraped bone. “Human?" he asks. The distance between the scars is too big to be a bear. Dean's guess is a big man.

“I was tracking an enemy in pitch darkness. Hot tip, son; D―”

"Don't," Dean finishes for him with a grin. "Yeah, I know. Sammy can do it, though. It's slow going but he's led me through the woods when it was pitch black. He sniffs before each step and describes what's in front of him with only the occasional _donk_ , 'Ow. Tree ahead.’”

Marlon chuckles. "That's the reason," he agrees. “This guy had some grade A scent blockers and came out of nowhere.” He touches the scars. "I was lucky because I tripped on a tree root exactly when he attacked. If I hadn't been mid-fall, he'd have killed me. He had the most wicked claws I’ve ever come across and they went halfway through my ribs. I rolled and shot my AR-15 blindly which probably saved me too. He was just a big black blur against blackness, gone as quickly as he came. I believe he had night vision goggles on to be able to move as quickly as he did.”

“You didn’t hit?”

“No.”

“Fuck, that musta been real fucking scary.”

Marlon reaches up to caress Dean’s cheek with a soft smile. “Son, everything about war is scary. We all came home with scars but it’s those on the inside that keep haunting us. It changed us and I know of no one who has healed from the damage done to our psyche. You step out on that battlefield and you never come back. What comes home is either brittle and broken, tormented, forever battling nightmares and ducking for attacks that won’t come, or hardened and cold, paranoid and in perpetuum vigilant. Bouts of uncontrolled rage in common. Panic attacks, anxiety, insomnia, agoraphobia, xenophobia, monophobia, the list goes on. There is no glory in war. I’m sure your father has told you that too considering how he’s trained you from scratch how to be prepared for it.” He sits up and wraps his arms around Dean, burrowing his nose by Dean’s neck to inhale deeply with closed eyes. He smells happy, and when Dean rubs his temple gland against him to mark him up he responds in kind. “It’s a blessing to smell Raphael’s mating bond on you, son. I haven’t got the words to describe how joyful it makes me,” he says and changes the topic. Dad and Bobby didn’t like to talk about the war either so Dean doesn’t push. There’ll be other days.

“Yeah… It’s pretty cool that he responds to it even if he can’t smell it himself.”

“He will very soon. It seems I’ve triggered your Heat. For his benefit, I wish to disallow you to use suppressants. But sadly it’s your body to govern, not mine.”

Dean likes this. This way Marlon tells him what actions he wants to take, what rules he wants to enforce, without actually taking steps to enforce them. “Yeah, no. Suppressants ain’t gonna happen. I thought about it now when it’s a financially viable option but I kinda like my Heats. And I like how I can use them to get my will,” he counters.

Marlon makes a happy little chirp and praises him with a “That’s my boy,” purred against the skin of his throat.

And Dean fucking likes it for all the wrong reasons. “Hey… Sorry I called you dad once while we were at it. I know it makes you uncomfortable but I was vindictive since you wouldn’t fucking give it to me,” he says and strokes Marlon’s sides. Marlon has the same body type as Lucifer. A bit more heavy-set both by muscles and comfort weight (or ‘protective padding’ as dad would say) which isn’t surprising since he’s older and according to his sons he doesn’t sleep much but exercises all the more.

“Twice.”

“Twice? Fuck. Yeah, okay, I don’t remember that. But I’m sorry.”

“Dean, I’m not truly put off by the moniker. I’m well aware that we’re in no way related and if it is your wish to roleplay sometimes to get an outlet for those tabooed feelings of yours I’ll play along, no judgement. I use son as a word for a young man, but should we play such game I can put weight on the other meaning of the word.”

Dean wonders if that will fan the forbidden flames or help put them out. “I might take you up on that sometime.”

Somewhere close by a phone beeps and they both look to the side of the bed where Marlon’s clothes lie. Dean can smell Marlon’s disappointment. “I need to get started with dinner so it’ll be ready when the boys come home. Are you staying to show them that you’ve conquered me?” he asks and leans his temple against Dean’s shoulder.

Conquered. Indeed. It was his intention when he came. ‘Keeping it old-school’. It’s good that Marlon is so basic underneath all of his outward refinement or this would have been harder. Dean’s heart flutters. He can see the influence Marlon’s had on what Luci wrote in his letter. Luci also began by presenting his bad sides just like Marlon told him of his own problems with wanting to control people. Luci was self-aware and working to keep his bad sides in check, just like Marlon.

Dean’s a firm believer that a man is his actions, not his thoughts. An evil man who thinks evil thoughts about everyone but only does good deeds is a good man. Actions are what defines someone, it's how other people see you. So having bad urges and impulses doesn’t make you bad. Plus, Dean himself had struggled with the loss of control when he thinks about it. When he’d thought Sam had wanderlust or got himself into trouble he’d worried and wanted to check on Sam. He’d let Sasha do it, thinking the transgression could be forgiven if Sasha didn’t report what Sam was doing unless he was in serious trouble in need of help. So, yeah, he thinks he can relate. Marlon is also probably a lot more self-aware of his own issues than Dean is. That’s one of the things that comes with age. Dean doesn’t think he has much in the way of issues which most likely simply mean he hasn’t figured himself out yet.

It’s tempting to stay. Bond properly and do the whole siphoning thing that is so effective. But that’d mean more sex and he’s not sure he can take it right now with the whole sensory overload he’d experienced. Sure, he feels mostly back to normal mentally, but his skin and hole are still not up for another session. Dean shakes his head. “Nah. It’s enough that you know I made a hostile takeover, Papa,” he jokes and scrapes his fingers through Marlon’s hair. They sit holding each other quietly for a while, purrs synching frequency. “You’ll extend a proper invitation for us to come to dinner. Make one of your sons relay it to Sam or Dick and they’ll tell me. Then I’ll call you and we’ll set up a time that suits us,” he orders after a while.

“It will be done. You don’t want me to tell the rest of the pack of this?” Marlon asks.

“Hey, you can tell any pack member whatever you want. I think it’ll cause less unrest if you don’t. Mike knows I came here to talk to you, not the manner I planned to do it. My business was with you. I can’t have you ghosting me or I’ll never trust you. I think we’ve resolved that, right?”

Marlon hums an agreement. “Then you won’t hold it against me if I leave out specifics of our encounter to save my pride?”

Dean chuckles and kisses Marlon’s forehead. “Not even a little bit.”

* * *

Once he’s left he lopes with a joyful step like a homing bird. Sam’s at work and Dick is with Crowley today. Though neither of them should be told about this move right away. Sam would be angry about it. Dick can be informed after they’ve moved in. Dick still displays a certain skittishness about the merger with the Williams pack like he’s expecting something to go sideways. It won’t, and now Dean knows he and Marlon will fit together. Probably not without some serious discussions about how to run the pack, but in private all will be well.

He makes it to the high rise in no time. For once he wasn’t running home to talk to Sam, not itching to call dad or aching to write Cas. No, this time he only had one person in mind. The same―and only―person he’d had in mind when he’d threatened Marlon with finding a replacement. 

He nods in familiar greeting to the guards and rides the elevator up.

Then, he knocks on Sasha’s door.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, and I've been asked if BDSM exists in this verse which of course it does. People are people. I want you to note, though, that Marlon and Dean aren't coming at it from an educated angle. They are just two people exploring their fantasies so if the D/S that is hinted at should happen 'onscreen' sometime, and you spot mistakes that a dom or sub shouldn't do - they have no idea what they're doing and figuring it out from scratch.
> 
> The orgasm denial in this installment is a good example. [TMI] _For me personally, it's a hard no. I either get turned off and get aggressive or I get that empty-sad feeling Dean experiences before Marlon gives him release. Chances are if I play orgasm denial games I can't come at all after having been denied it._ [END TMI] But Marlon and Dean will be fairly good at communicating around their kink explorations and it will help build a good foundation of trust for when things go sideways outside of the bed in the future.


End file.
